When You Trust, There’s No Need to Compare

When your perspective widens out from your self, your family, your community, your nation, your tradition, your race, your continent, your species, to all that is, and you accept your place in being, no more, no less, you trust that all that is to come to you will come to you, in time; and there is no need to compare yourself to the life of another, for you trust that they, too, will receive all that is theirs in this life. That’s the “order of things” as seen by the rabbi Ben Azai. Here is one of his sayings, one that reminds us that it is fear of loss and anxiety about not getting what we really need that makes us feel unhappy and compare ourselves to others, whom we think are receiving honors, land, goods, love that we should be receiving, now.

Ben Azai said:
You will be called by your name,
You will be seated in your place,
You will be given what is yours.
No one touches what is meant for another.
No kingdom touches its neighbor by so much as a hairsbreadth.
Hammer on the Rock: A Midrash Reader, p. 17 (a collection of sayings from the Talmud)

Dare “To See with Two Eyes”

Mystics of all traditions speak of double-seeing, looking at the world from two perspectives simultaneously, from the point of view of the spiritual reality and from the point of view of our limited material reality.  Ibn ‘Arabi  calls this “to see with two eyes.”  It’s not easy.  It takes practice to recognize the difference between the ways of seeing, avoid getting stuck in one or other, and walking around seeing from both perspectives.  William Blake was an expert at it.  

Blake was well-known and often ridiculed for his double-seeing, his visionary experience of the world he shared with other human beings.  In the biography The Life of William Blake, Alexander Gilchrist records this story of an encounter Blake had with a woman, as told by Blake himself:

“The other evening” Blake said in his usual quiet way, “I came to a meadow, and at the farther corner of it I saw a fold of lambs.  Coming nearer, the ground blushed with flowers; and the wattled cote and its wooly tenants were of an exquisite pastoral beauty.  but I looked again, and it proved to be no living flock, but beautiful sculpture.”  The lady, thinking this a capital holiday-show for her children, eagerly interposed, “I beg pardon, Mr.. Blake, but may I ask where you saw this?” “Here, madam,” answered Blake, touching his forehead.  (pp. 337-338)

Gilchrist points out that Blake was not mad:  He not only knew the difference between the reality perceived by most people and the phenomena he saw, he "would candidly confess [his visions] were not literal matters of fact.” (338) He understood these spiritual appearances to come from the faculty of the imagination.  Not imagination as we think of it:  the invention of empty fantasies or fictions. But imagination as the power of sensing subtler realities, realities, than we usually perceive. Gilchrist notes: “He said the things imagination saw were as much realities as were gross and tangible facts He would tell his artist-friends, ‘You have the same faulty as I (the visionary), only you do not trust or cultivate it.  You can see what I do, if you choose.” (339)

Whether we’re artists or not, his counsel is valuable.  Don’t get stuck in a particular literalistic view, whether it be a scientific or religious one. Trust and cultivate that power of imagination that expands our view of the universe and connects us more deeply to all.